J is for Savior
by Mayle
Summary: Sherlock is bored! Bored of school, teachers, homework, his family, his peers. It's all so droll and boring. His savior from boredom rides into town, astonishing all. Clad in leather and often sporting black eyes and split lips, J Watson is the ultimate bad boy.


"Get on," the boy commanded.

Sherlock knew he should look at the blonde like he'd grown another head and tell him to piss off. Instead, he climbed onto the back of the bike. The boy threw down his cigarette and ground his heel against it. Before Sherlock could take a breath the wind had stolen it. He was very suddenly gripping the boy's waist, in an effort to keep himself on the motorcycle. He couldn't help the wide grin that suddenly filled his face. They were speeding through London and Sherlock could barely see. And then the strangest thing happened; he laughed. He couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed. But there he was laughing and laughing a wonderful filling laugh that was lost in the wind.

It was over all too quickly. The boy pulled up outside a small house and turned off the motorcycle. Sherlock took this to mean "get off" and slid awkwardly off the bike. The boy chuckled at him and hopped off. He started toward the house and Sherlock stood awkwardly for a moment.

"Come on," the boy ordered.

Sherlock scurried after the blonde, unsure of what else he _could_ do (not that he didn't want to follow the interesting new boy). The boy stood by the door and waited for Sherlock to catch up. He thrust out a hand.

"J Watson," he stated.

Sherlock hesitated a moment and then took the offered hand.

"Sherlock Holmes," he responded.

"Sherlock?" the corners of J's lips quirked up slightly.

"Yeah, my parents think they're funny," Sherlock answered sarcastically.

J laughed at him and pounded on the door.

"Bo, open the dam door!" J shouted.

"It's unlocked, bitch!" a muffled voice called from behind it.

J opened the door and went in, grabbing Sherlock's arm and pulling him in after him. He slammed the door after dropping Sherlock's arm. Sherlock could hardly see anything it was so dark. Heavy curtains blocked the light from the window and there was only one lamp lit and it was covered by a scarf of some sort. Sherlock squinted as his eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room. He saw a form half sitting, half lying on the couch. Once his eyes finally became accustomed to the shadowy light, he saw the form was a black man who had to be in his late twenties.

"Don't be pounding on the door like you the cops," the voice from earlier said, "Fuck. You scared the shit out of me."

Sherlock recognized the accent as American.

"Whatever, you're fine," J rolled his eyes.

J moved forward in the dark, presumably to sit on the couch. He stopped and pulled out his pack of cigarettes. Suddenly the American stood and strode toward Sherlock.

"Who is this lovely specimen?" the man said brightly.

"That's Sherlock," J said around his cigarette, "Sherlock, this is Bo."

"Hello, hello, hello," Bo purred at Sherlock, "What can I do for you?"

"Uh, I'm fine," Sherlock mumbled.

"Oh, yes you are," Bo leaned down a bit to talk in Sherlock's ear, "You most certainly are."

Sherlock shivered slightly at the attention the man was giving him. He was slightly annoyed that the man was at least half a foot taller than him, but it didn't seem to bother Bo at all.

"Bo, chill out," J said, "He's with me."

Sherlock wasn't sure what that meant, but it made Bo frown and return to his seat. Sherlock shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, not sure what to do with himself. J had flopped down on the couch next to Bo and looked to Sherlock. He raised an eyebrow at him and patted the spot next to him. Sherlock shuffled over and sat.

"Here," J said as he held out his cigarette for Sherlock to take.

"I don't, um, I've never," Sherlock stuttered out.

"Aw, you gots a little baby, J," Bo laughed.

"Shut it, Bo," J growled at the man.

He turned back to Sherlock and held out the cigarette again.

"Take it," he commanded, "I'll tell you what to do."

"O-ok," Sherlock muttered.

He took the cigarette, awkwardly pinching it between two of his fingers and his thumb. J gently moved his fingers so it sat between his index finger and his middle finger.

"Now, put it to your mouth," J instructed, "Not too much, just the edge."

Sherlock lifted it and stuck the end in between his lips.

"Don't put your tongue on it," J directed, "Now take a breath through it. Just suck a breath through the cigarette."

Sherlock tentatively pulled a breath through the cigarette. He felt smoke fill his lungs and he looked to J for guidance.

"Just blow it out," J ordered.

Sherlock pulled the cigarette away as he blew out the smoke.

"There you go," J said brightly, "Go ahead and do it again."

Sherlock repeated his actions finding it easy to do. He always figured smoking would be harder, but it was easy. He did it again smiling at the little cylinder in his hand

"You may feel a bit light-headed," J informed him.

J took the cigarette from him and took a nice long drag.

"Hey, by the way," Bo spoke up suddenly, "Ya'll ain't gonna be fuckin' in here."

Sherlock rolled his eyes at the man's crudeness.

"We'll fuck anywhere we please," J snarled at him.

Sherlock raised his eyebrows at that comment.

"No you won't," Bo sat up straighter, "If there's fuckin' in this house, I better be fuckin'. I don't care if I'm part of it."

"Please, like we'd want you to be part of it," J laughed.

Sherlock didn't seem to have a say about any fucking that would be happening.

"You go get me some and then you can fuck too," Bo told J.

"Oh yeah?" J answered.

Suddenly, Sherlock felt himself fly up and over. J settled him on his lap and brought his face down to his. He crushed his lips against Sherlock's, pressing the younger boys head down. Sherlock was so shocked and aroused and shocked that he was aroused that he wasn't sure what to do. Finally, his mouth began to work and he kissed J back with much enthusiasm.

"Mmm, I changed my mind," Bo said, "I'm content just to watch."

J broke off the kiss to punch Bo and take his cigarette back. He slid Sherlock back to where he was sitting (Sherlock wasn't entirely happy about it). They spent the next who knows how long talking and passing cigarettes back and forth. Sherlock felt boredom start to sink in again, but at least it was different boredom than he was used to.


End file.
